


Everything You Need

by Sexxica



Series: Sugar Daddy John [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Homeless Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Masturbation, Relationship Negotiation, Rough Oral Sex, Sugar Baby Sherlock, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy John, Twink Sherlock, Young Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is the shy little thing that successful and wealthy Doctor Watson's dreams are made of.  Luckily, Sherlock could really use a Daddy in his life and a good bit of looking after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything You Need

John had seen him at least a few days every week for a month; the tall, gangly young man with the riot of dark hair and sharp eyes who bussed tables at the cafe near the hospital.  They had never spoken more than a word or two, but John had taken a certain interest in the half-starved looking boy.  He was gorgeous, for one thing, and seemingly smart as a whip, although he appeared to use it mostly to tell people off.  

He had become something of a highlight in John’s days, and John had taken to staring more openly at the boy, thrilling at the way he blushed and stumbled over himself when he met John’s gaze.  It was a good bit of fun, but when the boy suddenly disappeared (fired, said the server), John felt the loss.

He would have said that it was fate when one evening, about two weeks after he had last seen the boy, that John spotted him on the street from the back of his town car.  Those eyes, that mop of hair, he was unmistakable even sitting near an alley in a filthy looking jumper and a torn pair of jeans.  John was beginning to realize why someone as smart as this boy was bussing tables instead of holed up in a university library somewhere putting his classmates to shame.

“Pull over,” John ordered his driver, stepping out of the car as it pulled up to the kerb, and over to the young man.  “Hello there,” he smiled, clearly startling the boy as his head shot up to look at him.

“Hullo,” the boy mumbled in return, looking more than a little ashamed.

“John.  John Watson.  And you are?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”  he said quietly.

“That’s quite the name, Sherlock.  Do you have a place to stay tonight?”  John was blunt.  There was no use in skirting the issue.

“I’m fine.”  Sherlock spat back, his shame quickly resolving itself into anger.

“Are you really?”  John quirked an eyebrow at him, not the least bit put off by Sherlock’s acerbic tone. “Because from the way you look I’d say you haven’t had a proper meal in days, and even longer than that for a good bath.”

Sherlock unfolded himself from his spot on the pavement, standing up to his full height, which was a good head taller than John, and flicked his eyes over him.  “That isn’t any of your business,  Doctor Watson .” Sherlock practically sneered.

John laughed, “Who told you I was a doctor?”

“No one, and you’re not just a doctor, you’re a surgeon. Highly successful too, although, the money doesn’t make you happy like you thought it would.”

“That’s incredible.”  John marvelled, and watched as a pink flush spread its way prettily across Sherlock’s cheeks.

“That’s not,”  Sherlock coughed a little, fidgeting, clearly a bit flustered now, his anger disappearing as quickly as the blush on his cheeks spread, “that’s not what people usually say.”

“What do people usually say?”

“Piss off.”  Sherlock gave a small smile that John returned with an easy chuckle.

“Get in.”  John instructed, inclining his head toward the shiny, black car.  Sherlock hesitated, looking around at the street and the growing dark of the chilly evening.  “Listen, do you trust me?”  John asked and Sherlock looked him up and down again before giving a slow nod.  “Then let me take you home.  Can’t be any worse than another night out here, yeah?”   Again, Sherlock gave a nod and followed John into the back of the car.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Leave your clothes in the basket, I’ll have something for you to wear left in the guest room I showed you.  Take all the time you need, okay? I’ll be in the sitting room when you’re done.”  John had showed Sherlock around his flat, ending up in the lavish bathroom that had not only a huge clawfoot tub, but a large glass walled shower with enough shower heads to honestly look a bit intimidating.  John turned to leave but was stopped by cold fingers wrapping around his wrist.  “Jesus, you’re freezing.” John said, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

Sherlock swallowed hard, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.  “What … what do you want?  From me?”  He asked, his voice small and resigned.

John realized that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone had taken Sherlock in, and that perhaps those other times had not exactly been good experiences.  It would explain why his default setting was more than a little hostile.  John turned around to face him.  “Look at me, please,” he requested, and waited until Sherlock tentatively did so.  “The only things I want are for you to get yourself clean,”  John paused, “maybe in more ways than one, if I’m right.  To get a good meal into you, and some sleep in a proper bed.  Anything else is up to you.  I’ll have your things cleaned by morning, and if you don’t want to stay past that, I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll understand.  Is that clear?”  

Sherlock nodded, his eyes wide.  “I would like very much to look after you.  To help you get on your feet and going in a direction that would make you happy.  I think you’re incredibly bright and that you could go far with a bit of help.”  John couldn’t help but admire the way Sherlock looked, staring at him in a small bit of awe, his plush lips slightly parted.  He reached up to brush the filthy curls off his forehead.  “Not that you aren’t bloody gorgeous,” John practically growled, then took a deep breath, reigning himself in as he watched Sherlock turn bright red up to the tips of his ears.  “But, it’s all your choice.  Whatever you want.  All of it or none, or something in the middle, Sherlock.  You understand, yeah?”

“I understand.”  Sherlock breathed.

“Good.  Now, take your time. I’ll get us some supper and we’ll eat whenever you’re ready.”  This time John turned and left without interruption.  

He had someone rush out to find Sherlock some pyjamas and basic clothes, having to guess at his size, but it would be better than the filthy things he had come with.  He also ordered in some Chinese and then sat to watch some crap telly while he waited for Sherlock.  Part of him wondered what the hell he was doing with the boy, but another part of him felt incredibly relieved to know he wasn’t dead in a gutter somewhere.  Exactly the opposite really -- he was safe under John’s roof and although it was true that John wanted him badly, in every way imaginable, he also felt that he would be happy just taking care of him if Sherlock wasn’t interested in anything else.  

It was something he had done before, actually, and he knew he found a lot of satisfaction in providing the mentorship and funds needed for someone to find their own way in the world.  He also liked having some bright young thing on his arm for boring business events. The sex had always been a bonus.  

Sherlock was different somehow, though, and John had felt invested in him even before he found him on the street.  He was intriguing and John felt pulled to him in a way that he hadn’t felt for anyone else.  John hoped that he would decide to stay, at least for a while.  

 

 

* * *

 

Sherlock lay between cool sheets, scrubbed clean and full of more food than he had eaten in the past two weeks put together.  He had found a pair of pyjama bottoms, a soft cotton t-shirt, and a blue striped silk robe laid out on the guestroom bed along with packages of new pants and socks when he had eventually emerged from the bathroom.  He had put them on and gone out to find John Watson laying out a table full of enough food for at least eight people.  

“I didn’t know what you liked,” he had said, “so, I got a bit of everything.  That all seems to fit okay, yeah?”

Sherlock could only nod in response.  He didn’t know why words so often seemed to escape him when he was around this man, but he thought it had something to do with the way he looked at him -- at once hungry and absolutely full of caring.  It was as bewildering as the compliments he gave with ease and honesty that made Sherlock blush and feel like his ears were going to burn right off.  

And he had asked for nothing, and for some reason, Sherlock believed that he wouldn’t try to take anything either -- unlike others who had wanted to ‘help’ him before.  He genuinely liked John, had liked him since the first day he had seen him in the cafe.  He looked so strong and confident in his well tailored suits, with his dexterous and sure surgeon’s hands, always clean and well manicured.  One look from him and Sherlock’s blood rushed so quickly he could hear it.

John hadn’t forced any conversation over dinner either.  Didn’t pry into why Sherlock didn’t have a place to sleep, or ask what drugs he may or may not be in the habit of using.  They ate in comfortable silence, then John cleared up while Sherlock stuffed a fourth plate of food into himself.  It was late by the time they were done supper, and John gave a yawn and announced he was off to bed.  “I’m just down the hall if you need anything during the night.”  He had said, a hint of a smile on his thin lips.

Sherlock had gone to the guestroom shortly after.  It felt strange after so many nights on a damp sheet of cardboard, or a dirty, lumpy mattress if he was lucky, to be in a bed with fluffy pillows and only the smell of fabric softener.  He couldn’t sleep though.  All he could think about was John.  John’s laugh.  John’s hands.  The way John’s voice had dropped to a rumble when he had called Sherlock gorgeous.  John had already made him feel more wanted and cared for in an evening than he had felt in years, and more than that, John trusted him and Sherlock hadn’t been lying when he said he trusted John.

Sherlock tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep and trying to decide what it was he wanted out of this.  John had said it was his choice.  Whatever he wanted.  Sherlock soon came to the conclusion that he wanted everything -- everything John had to give him and he would give whatever he could in return.

Sherlock got out of bed, and nervously walked down the hall in just his pants to knock lightly on John’s door.  There was no answer.  Sherlock took a deep breath to gather his confidence and pushed the door open.  He could just see John’s sleeping form, sprawled out on his back on the huge bed.  Sherlock padded over and knelt next to the bed, reaching up to put a hand on John’s bare arm.  John stirred and gave a sleepy sounding huff, “Hmm Sherlock, what’s wrong?”  he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Sherlock let his thumb stroke back and forth over John’s warm skin.  “I can’t sleep.”  he said quietly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  Is there anything I can do?”  John said, propping himself up on his side.

Sherlock looked up at him bashfully, the colour already rising in his cheeks.  “Could I … umm … maybe, sleep with you ... please, Daddy?”  Sherlock whispered the last word.

He watched a smile flicker over John’s face before he shuffled over in the bed, holding up the sheets for Sherlock to get in.  “Of course you can, sweetheart.”  John said and Sherlock smiled shyly and crawled under the covers, curling up on his side with his back to John.  John wrapped one arm around his chest, pulling him in close with a pleased humm as he pressed his nose into the back of Sherlock’s neck.  

Sherlock could feel John’s thick cock nestling in between his arse cheeks as John shifted, only two thin layers of fabric separating them.   Sherlock gave a low moan.  “Shh,”  John shushed him, “we can talk about that tomorrow.  Sleep now.”  John pressed a kiss to the back of Sherlock’s neck,  settling down and quickly drifting back to sleep.  Sherlock gave a contented sigh, John’s arm was as warm and strong as he imagined and he felt comfortable and safe pressed up against him.  It wasn’t much longer until Sherlock was asleep too.

 

 

* * *

 

Sherlock woke up fuzzy and a little disoriented in the huge bed, and apparently alone.  He rolled over and saw a note on the bedside table, his name scrawled large across the top of it.

“ _ Sherlock , _ ” it read, “ _ I’m sorry, I had to leave to go to work.  You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you.  Please make yourself at home.  There’s food in the fridge and a few more things for you to wear in the guestroom.  If you would like to go out, I’ve told the doorman you’re my guest and he will let you back in.  I’ll be home at 6:30, and if you haven’t changed your mind, we’ll have a talk over dinner.  If you have, though, your things are clean and here’s some cash for you.  Please take it and any of the new clothes you like with you if you leave.  I sincerely hope to see you tonight. --John ” _

Sherlock smiled to himself and hugged the paper to his chest, inwardly chanting  _ Daddy, Daddy, Daddy _ .  He was perfect; still giving Sherlock a choice even after he had come willingly into his bed.  Sherlock didn’t think he had ever slept as well as he had wrapped in John’s arms, and it made him blush just thinking about it.  God he wanted him.

Sherlock sighed and rolled out of John’s warm bed, his stomach already growling even after his big meal the night before.  He stopped in the guestroom to pull on his discarded pyjamas and see about the clothes John had mentioned in his note.  There was a selection of tshirts and dress shirts, jeans and trousers, hanging in the closet, with a few pairs of shoes on a rack underneath, and a drawer full of socks and pants.  Everything was his size and nicer than anything he had seen before, and he smiled as he ran the soft fabrics between his thumb and fingers.  He hadn’t asked for any of it, hadn’t even mentioned that the clothes on his back were nearly all he owned, but John had known.  He had known and given Sherlock exactly what he needed to feel comfortable.  Sherlock’s own things were folded neatly on a chair, his rucksack and shoes next to it.  

Sherlock’s stomach grumbled at him again and he wandered out to the kitchen, searching the cupboards until he found a plate, and the drawers for a fork before he raided the fridge, piling his plate high with leftover Chinese.  He ate slowly, realizing now that he maybe didn’t have to worry about where his next meal was coming from.  

He rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher, wondering what he was going to do until John got home.  He wandered the flat for a while, snooping into drawers and closets and scanning John’s bookshelves which contained a large collection of medical texts, and a not insubstantial amount of bad spy novels.  

Sherlock decided that a shower was in order, finding clean towels already laid out in the large bathroom.  He took his time, enjoying the hot spray of the various shower heads and the smell of John’s bath products.  Everything was spicy and masculine and luxurious and made Sherlock’s head swim with how much it all just smelled like John.  His cock started to fill out as his mind was flooded with thoughts of John’s skin pressed to his own,  and the way his thick cock had felt against his arse.

Sherlock moaned as he took himself in hand, his wet skin sliding easily as he stroked himself.  He shuddered as he thought about what John’s … no, his Daddy’s cock would look like.  How big would he be when he was hard?  God he hoped John wanted to be his Daddy as badly as he wanted it.  It had just kind of slipped out the night before, but John hadn’t argued or looked put off by it in any way.  He had called Sherlock ‘sweetheart’.  

Sherlock gasped as he jerked himself off quickly, his orgasm rapidly approaching, especially as he thought about his Daddy’s compliments, how he had growled out that he was gorgeous.  Sherlock let out a shuddering moan as he came hard, the shower quickly washing away the evidence even as his chest still heaved with it.  

 

 

* * *

  
  


John spent the entire day distracted and wondering whether or not Sherlock would still be there when he got home.  He had been pleasantly surprised when Sherlock asked to sleep with him, and even more surprised when he had called him Daddy, but none of that would necessarily stick in the light of day.  It had taken everything John had to unwrap himself from Sherlock’s sleeping form and leave him that morning, but he had to go to work, and knew that Sherlock could likely use some space to make his decisions.

John took a deep breath before he opened the door to his flat, hoping that Sherlock would be there, but trying hard to keep those hopes in check.  The flat was silent and, for a moment, John’s heart sank painfully, thinking Sherlock had decided to leave.  But, as John rounded the corner into the main living area, he saw Sherlock, stretched out and fast asleep on the sofa, a novel splayed out on his chest.  John smiled, relieved.

Sherlock looked as gorgeous as ever, maybe even more so wearing a pair of tight jeans that sat low on his hips, and a white tshirt that had ridden up around his stomach, exposing a large strip of pale skin and a trail of dark hair.  John wanted to run his tongue over that skin, see what Sherlock tasted like.  He walked over and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, waking him up gently and watching as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Mmm, must have nodded off,”  Sherlock murmured.

“Should I take that to mean you don’t share my love of spy novels, then?”  John joked, nodding towards the novel still resting on Sherlock’s chest.  

“I … umm,” Sherlock stammered.

“You don’t have to answer that,” John laughed. “You do, however, have to answer what you would like for supper.” 

“Umm,”  Sherlock sat up, setting the novel aside and ruffling his hair, “pizza?”  He hazarded.

“Pizza it is.”  John pulled off his suit jacket and slung it over the back of a chair, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves before he got his phone out of his pocket.  He noticed how Sherlock watched his every move as if he were cataloguing each motion.  “Will you set us out some plates while I order?”  John asked and Sherlock nodded, standing and walking over to the kitchen to do as John had asked.  John watched him go, admiring his plush arse in those tight jeans while he recalled the feeling of that arse pressed against him.

The pizza arrived shortly and John smiled as he watched Sherlock eat with gusto.  It would do him well to put on a few pounds, really.  John waited until they had their fill to start what could often be a bit of an awkward discussion, but it had to be done.  John cleared his throat.  “Now, since you’re still here, I presume you would like to discuss an arrangement, yes?”  Sherlock nodded in response so John continued.  “I have some ground rules that aren’t negotiable, so let’s go over those first, alright?”

“Okay.”  Sherlock said.

“First, you’re going for a full physical and blood workup tomorrow.  Second, you will get and remain clean from whatever drugs you’ve been on.”  Sherlock rolled his eyes at that.  “No,”  John got up out of his chair, stalking over to Sherlock and grabbing his chin tightly, forcing him to look John in the eye.  “I do not care what you have or haven’t done, or how much you think you have things under control.  If you want my help you will be clean, and I will have assurance of it.  Is that understood?”  Sherlock whimpered just a little and gave a small nod as John released him.  “Good.  Third, you will get some sort of full time schooling starting as soon as possible.  And finally, you will come with me to any events I would like you at, unless they conflict with your education.”

John stayed standing in front of Sherlock, enjoying the proximity and the way Sherlock looked staring up at him.  “Are any of those going to be a problem?”

“No, John,”  Sherlock said and John nodded to acknowledge his answer before continuing.

“Everything else is really up to you.  I’d be happy to help you find a small flat of your own if you would like, and you’re free to get a part time job as long as your education comes first.  Of course, I’ll give you a monthly allowance so you won’t have to, but I know some people like to keep busy.”

“D-does that mean I can’t stay here with you?” Sherlock blurted out, his cheeks tinged with pink.  John nearly lost it right then.  He wanted Sherlock so badly, and knew now that Sherlock wanted him, but he didn’t want to pressure the boy into anything, especially not a sexual relationship.  But, the desire to stay with him, and of course the night before, led John to believe that maybe that was more what Sherlock wanted than any of John’s help or money.

“Well of course you can, if that’s what you'd like.”  John couldn’t resist and reached out to cup Sherlock’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over those sharp cheekbones.  “Is that,” John let his voice drop suggestively low, “what you’d like?”  

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut and he nodded, nuzzling his face against John’s hand.  John let his thumb glide over Sherlock’s plump bottom lip.  “How about you ask me properly, then?  Like you did last night?”

Sherlock opened his eyes, gazed up looking shy but expectant.  “Please Daddy, can I stay with you?”

“Absolutely.”  John growled, taking Sherlock’s head in both hands and pressing a kiss to his mouth.  Sherlock moaned into the kiss, letting John press his tongue past his lips to deepen it.  

Sherlock reached up to clutch at John’s shirt, squirming in his chair as his blood rushed, this time not to his cheeks, but down to his rapidly hardening cock.  His Daddy’s mouth was perfect, and his tongue pushed its way into his mouth, greedy and strong and Sherlock let him, wanted him to.  Sherlock wanted him to claim every inch of him with that tongue.  

John broke the kiss and stepped back purposefully, a bit of a smirk on his face as he noticed the bulge in Sherlock’s tight jeans.  Sherlock whined at the loss of contact as John pulled his own empty chair away from the table and sunk back into it.  “Come here, sweetheart,” he smiled and Sherlock took the few steps to stand in front of him.  John grabbed his hips and pulled him down into his lap, his long legs splaying out on either side of the chair.  John slid his hands around to fondle Sherlock’s arse and pull him in closer, feeling the hard length of Sherlock’s cock press against him.  “God you’re eager, aren’t you?”  John slid one hand up Sherlock’s chest, around the back of his neck and up into all that hair.  “Tell Daddy what you want, baby.”

Sherlock whined and squirmed in his Daddy’s lap, every nerve seemed like it was on fire and every touch sent little jolts of pleasure through him, making his already straining cock, twitch almost painfully against the tight confines of his jeans.  He was already so flustered it took him a moment to realize that John was waiting for an answer.  “Everything, Daddy.” he whispered shyly, his eyes downcast.  “I-I want to be yours.”

John’s grip on Sherlock’s hair tightened, tipping his head to the side and exposing more of the enticingly pale column of his neck.  John licked one slow stripe all the way up it, ending with a hard nip at Sherlock’s jaw.  “You know, I like the sound of that.  Like it very much.”  John  said, his voice rough and low in Sherlock’s ear as he dug his fingers into Sherlock’s arse through his jeans.  “And how,” John sunk his teeth into Sherlock’s earlobe, giving it a small tug, making Sherlock gasp, “do you think, we should go about doing that?  Hmm?”  

John released Sherlock’s hair, smoothing his hand back down Sherlock’s chest, catching on the v-neck of his tshirt.  John toyed with the neckline, tugging on the thin material as Sherlock wriggled open-mouthed and nearly panting in his lap.  “Come on now, sweetheart.  I bet you have some ideas in that gorgeous head of yours.  I  _ know _ you’re not just a pretty face.”

Sherlock felt helpless and sluggish and completely mad with want and god he was absolutely delighted about the whole thing.  Before he could even run through a top five list of ways in which his Daddy could claim him, he was being drawn close, his shirt fisted in his Daddy’s hand.  Sherlock felt his Daddy’s stubble scrape roughly along his cheek and his warm breath on his skin.  “I’ll tell you what.”  he whispered huskily, “seeing as words seem to be escaping you right now, why don’t you put that beautiful mouth to another use, huh?  And if you’re a very good boy for me, Sherlock, if you do a good job, Daddy will look after you.”  

Sherlock let out a strangled moan as John gave his stiff cock a slow squeeze through the fabric of his jeans.  Sherlock nodded vigorously, managing to squeak out a “yes, please Daddy” before John kissed him hard on the mouth.  

“On your knees for me, sweetheart.” John said and Sherlock slipped off his lap, settling on his knees between John’s spread legs.  Sherlock licked his lips eagerly, steadying his shaking hands on his Daddy’s knees while he gazed up at him.  John didn’t even bother unbuckling his belt, just unzipped his fly and reached in to pull his quickly hardening cock out, giving it a few strokes as he did.

Sherlock’s fingers twitched and he swallowed audibly.  His Daddy’s cock was huge -- thick and perfect and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to have all of it in his mouth right that instant.  John reached out with his free hand to cradle the back of Sherlock’s head, pulling him forward.  Sherlock opened his mouth, gave a long lick up the underside of John’s cock while his hands slid forward to rest on his thighs.  He relished the hot velvet feel under his tongue, and he stretched his lips wide to wrap them around the head of his Daddy’s cock.

“Mmm that’s it, baby.” John encouraged, putting gentle pressure on the back of Sherlock’s head.  Sherlock sunk his mouth down until his lips nearly met John’s fingers and the tip of his cock was butting up against the back of Sherlock’s throat.  John groaned and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, letting his legs fall open wider as he enjoyed the warmth and wetness of Sherlock’s mouth almost completely engulfing him.  

Sherlock pulled back, keeping his lips wrapped tight around his Daddy’s thick cock, letting his cheeks hollow out with suction as he pressed his tongue against the underside.  His jaw already gave a satisfying twinge of stiffness at being held open so wide.  Sherlock gave a small moan as he licked and sucked on the head of his Daddy’s cock, tasting him, breathing in the scent of him and trying to catalogue each sensation.  He bobbed his head up and down, wriggling his tongue and making pleased little noises as his Daddy petted his hair.

Sherlock took a deep breath through his nose and slowly took more of John’s cock into his throat, pushing until he gagged a little and tears started to pool in the corners of his eyes.  John’s breath hitched at the sight and the feeling, jesus it was good.  “Ooh fuck, you look so good choking on my cock.  So good, baby.”  John soothed as Sherlock pulled off to take another breath, the tears rolling down his cheeks when he blinked.  John smiled down at him, his eyes dark and hungry.  “See if you can take it all for Daddy.”   

Sherlock whimpered, and steeled himself for the challenge.  He tried to relax his throat as much as he could and breathe through his nose as he stretched his mouth wide around his Daddy’s cock.  He pushed down, then pulled back, then pushed down more, working through the bit of discomfort he felt as he swallowed his Daddy down.  Soon he felt his lips make contact with his Daddy’s fingers, still wrapped around the base of his cock, and his nose brushed up against the teeth of his zipper.

John groaned, a deep and satisfied sound, as his fist tightened in Sherlock’s hair.  “Fuck yes.   _ Such _ a good boy, Sherlock.  You take Daddy’s cock so well.”  John used his hold on Sherlock’s hair to guide his head, tugging gently on it to pull him nearly all the way off, then to urge him back down, setting up a rhythm that was quick enough for John’s tastes, but easy enough to not scare Sherlock off.  John wanted to thrust mercilessly into Sherlock’s throat, make the tears spill down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe -- but that could come later with more trust and another discussion about limits and safewords.

Sherlock let his Daddy’s firm hand guide him, set the pace as Sherlock tried to focus on moving his tongue and maintaining the seal his lips made, not the fact that his own straining erection was now leaving a large damp patch on his jeans.  His jaw ached and his throat was starting to feel a little raw, but his Daddy was making the most delicious noises and Sherlock desperately wanted to please him.  He let out little whimpering moans and clutched at his Daddy’s trousers as he sucked and bobbed his head, trying to communicate his want, his need. 

John’s breath was speeding up, hitching each time his cock hit the back of Sherlock’s throat.  John groaned and jerked Sherlock’s head back, pulling him off his cock, but keeping hold of his hair.  Sherlock whined, such a needy sound, and John basked in it as he started to stroke his spit-slicked cock.  “I want to come all over your gorgeous face, baby.  Would you like that?” 

Sherlock let out a quivering moan as his eyelids fluttered shut.  “Yes, Daddy,” he managed to breathe, completely undone by the feel of his Daddy’s cock just barely brushing against his lips.  He stared up at him, and his Daddy stared back, licking his lips with a hint of a smile.  Sherlock couldn’t help it, he just couldn’t resist sticking out his tongue to get another taste of his Daddy, giving small licks along the slit.

“Oh fuck, baby,” John groaned, throwing his head back as he stroked himself quickly against Sherlock’s warm tongue.  John gasped and struggled to keep his eyes open as his muscles tensed and his cock pulsed in his fist, painting Sherlock’s face with come.  He moaned low in his throat, warmth and pleasure washing through him as the last spurts of his come landed on Sherlock’s tongue which retreated back behind Sherlock’s lips with a wanton little noise.

John gave a pleased humm and gingerly tucked his softening cock back in his trousers before reaching out to grip Sherlock’s chin, tilting his face up toward him.  “Oh you filthy little boy,” John smirked, enjoying the sight of Sherlock’s stark features striped with come, glueing one of his eyes shut and even clumping some of his fringe together.  “Let Daddy get you cleaned up, huh?”  He reached over to the table for a napkin and tenderly wiped Sherlock’s face, although his hair was a bit of a lost cause.  

“Thank you, Daddy,” Sherlock whispered, trying hard not to squirm too much under the attention.  “W-was I a good boy for you Daddy?  Did I do a good job?”  Sherlock blushed, his own ignored cock was so desperate for attention.

John pressed a hard kiss to Sherlock’s red mouth, “more than that, sweetheart.  You were perfect.  That wicked mouth is going to be a world of trouble, isn’t it?”  John stood and pulled Sherlock up with him, grasping the hem of his tshirt and pulling it up over his head.  John tsked as he backed Sherlock up against the table, “skin and bones, you are.”  John ran his hands over Sherlock’s sharp collarbones, brushing down over peaked nipples to slot his fingers into the hollows between his ribs.  John pressed in closer, making Sherlock rest his hands on the table for support, and put his lips to Sherlock’s ear.  “I’m going to make you feel so good now, Sherlock,” John whispered huskily.  

Sherlock moaned helplessly, his knees already shaking.  His Daddy slid his hands down his taught and trembling stomach to pull open his flies.  Finally, finally letting his straining cock free.

“Oh my.  No pants,”  John grinned up at him, making him blush deep.  “You really are a filthy little boy.”  John pushed the jeans off Sherlock’s slim hips, down to his knees before he gave a gentle shove, urging Sherlock to sit up on the table.  John pulled the jeans the rest of the way off in one hard tug, and gripped Sherlock’s bony knees, spreading them as he invaded Sherlock’s space.  John pushed one of Sherlock’s knees up until his heel rested on the edge of the table and the other he pushed over until Sherlock’s other foot was on a chair.

“Just look at you,’  John breathed, reverently.  He was transfixed for a moment, taking in Sherlock’s smooth, pale skin, dotted here and there with freckles.  He was so skinny, all angles, hips and ribs and collarbones all jutting awkwardly, except for that firm, round arse which John thought might be some sort of miracle.  And his cock was perfect -- slim and pink, just this side of small and absolutely dripping where it lay hard and twitching against his hip.  John also couldn’t ignore the tight pucker of Sherlock’s arsehole, just visible with him spread as he was.  John slid one hand up Sherlock’s inner thigh, inching toward his leaking cock.  

Sherlock wriggled on top of the table, desperate for his Daddy to touch him.  “Please,” he whined, aware just how needy he sounded.

John mouthed at his neck and jaw.  “Tell Daddy what you need, sweetheart.”  John said, his voice like warm honey.

“Touch me, Daddy, please.”  

“Gladly.”  John murmured, wrapping his hand around Sherlock’s cock, making him gasp and shudder.  “Mmm so hard for Daddy, aren’t you?”  John let his fingers graze over the head of Sherlock’s cock, spreading his precome.  “And so wet too, baby.  You must have been thinking about this all day, hmm?”

Sherlock nodded frantically, biting his lip and blushing furiously, his breath coming in halting little gasps as his Daddy stroked his cock firmly from root to tip.  His Daddy’s words went straight through him, sparking his arousal impossibly further, impossibly more.  He didn’t think he could last much longer even though they had barely even started.

“This is mine now, isn’t it?”  John growled, giving a twist of his wrist that made Sherlock’s toes curl.

“Yuh-yess Daddy,”  Sherlock managed to stutter, his mind quickly whiting out, narrowing down to only the feel of his Daddy’s hands on him and his voice in his ear.

John let the fingers of his other hand brush lightly over Sherlock’s little arsehole.  “And this too, yeah?”

Sherlock nearly came right then,  avoiding it only by gripping his toes hard around the edge of the table.  “Yes Daddy!” he sobbed.  “Please, please, I’m … ahn … I’m gonna …”

“Shh baby, it’s alright, go ahead.  Let Daddy see you come.”  John pressed the pad of his thumb against Sherlock’s perineum, keeping a quick pace with his fist gliding over Sherlock’s stiff cock.

Sherlock shivered and twitched and let out a broken cry of “Daddy” as his cock pulsed and he came all over himself and John’s hand.  It felt like it went on for ages, and Sherlock held his breath through it, eventually taking in a gasping lungful when it was over, just residual twitches and sparks along his nerves.  His thighs quivered and it took him a minute to come back to himself, but when he did he realized that John was smiling bemusedly at him while he cleaned him off once more.

John leant in and kissed the dazed look off Sherlock’s face.  “Good, was it?”

Sherlock nodded numbly, the world still a little hazy and over-warm after his intense orgasm.  “Come on sweetheart, let’s get you in the bath.  I’m afraid we made a bit of a mess of you.”  Sherlock could only nod again, giving his Daddy a thoroughly pleased, shy smile.   


**Author's Note:**

> [Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)


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